


Escape Velocity (Catch Me If You Can)

by Celticheavens



Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-15 19:29:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10556466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celticheavens/pseuds/Celticheavens
Summary: Wonsik is a newly graduated space cadet who wants just a hint of excitement in his life, but finds himself getting more than what he'd bargained for in the form of a certain Kenneth Lee.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note: One swear word. Yes, just one.
> 
> Disclaimer: This piece is a work of fiction and nothing more. The characters depicted in this story are in no way realistic representations of their actual counterparts, and should be taken as literary inspirations of the latter and nothing more. No form of defamation or malice are intended.

The cobbled streets of Aurelia are filled with the busy weekend crowd of strangers —both local and foreign alike— hustling to their various destinations. The steady patter of footsteps against the aged stones fills the air with a rhythmic lullaby, and coupled with the warmth of spring, threaten to lure Wonsik to sleep. It’s the umpteenth time Wonsik has traced his patrol route, and he is certain he can navigate it fine with his eyes closed —save for the occasional pavement or loose stone that catches him unaware—. Deciding he is due for a (well-deserved) break, he pauses under the shade of a young tree along the main street, and casually leans against its trunk —the soft wood groaning in response, much to his chagrin— to give his tired back some respite. Despite his boredom, Wonsik’s eyes continue to methodically scan his surroundings for the potentially suspicious: shifty-eyes that are usually down casted, hands tucked fully in pockets, hunched shoulders, an abundance of clothing pieces that conceal their personal features, an obvious avoidance of people around them — in general, just folks who _don’t seem to fit in_ with the usual crowd. Wonsik chuckles at the irony, and makes a mental note that if he were to become a criminal, he would save himself the trouble, and just head out in his usual clothes.

The rookie space cadet settles for watching the stream of people trickle by, their faces blending into each other’s in a mess of indistinguishable anonymity, and he sighs. His hand unconsciously moves to graze the plasma pistol secured against his hip — a tingle of excitement pricks at his fingers when they meet the cool alloy, and the thick leather of the holster is a reassuring pressure against his hipbone. He gives the gleaming gold badge adorning his chest a quick glance, and a wave of pride washes through him. A goofy grin sneaks onto his face, and its seemingly inexplicable appearance startles those in his proximity, resulting in many a pair of curious, and disapproving stares thrown his way. Oblivious to the reactions he is receiving, Wonsik studies his badge further: the embossed letters spelling _V.I.X.X._ are clearly visible in its centre, the midday sun further accentuating them in an almost ethereal glow against the dusty grey of his uniform.

Wonsik runs a finger across the accessory, and can’t help but feel how surreal it is to have the collective result of his past two years of intensive training crystallised in the form of said badge. His decision to join his sector’s intergalactic law enforcement agency was a rash one, and on hindsight, a product of his youthful desire for escapism. He craved something more unorthodox than his original route of becoming an aeronautic engineer, but at the same time, he didn’t want something too radically deviant. What he coveted was akin to a beaten path just shy of the paved road society shepherded the masses on — one with sufficient creative margin to keep his mind from dulling, yet still gave him some comfort of security as he strayed along the fringes of society. Wonsik knows his journey has only just begun, and despite the rather dull routine of his life now —as evident from the abundance of idle time courtesy of how safe Aurelia is—, he can’t help but feel the seed of anticipation growing within him whenever he gazes upon the looming building of V.I.X.X.’s headquarters.

After several more minutes of people watching, Wonsik decides he has taken a long enough break —because more importantly, it would be difficult to keep up his façade of _surveillance_ versus plain loafing around if he dawdled in a single spot for too long—. He rolls his shoulders to ease the strain in them into a more tolerable throb, cracks his stiff neck for good measure, and gives his firearm a cursory pat before taking his leave.

He barely gets a couple of steps from his previous spot before a resounding boom sends him scrambling for his pistol. Wonsik lays crouched near the ground with every fibre of his muscles tensed, pistol raised, his heart pounding against his ears, but his mind eerily calm. He scans his surroundings, senses on high alert as he takes in each detail with practiced ease. The pedestrians are in shock, and the confusion that pervades the atmosphere vacillates between dumbfounded silence, and hysterical commotion. He notices a few people gesturing in the general direction of the city centre, fear apparent in their repeated chants of _what happened?_ He follows their line of vision above the uneven skyline of residences, and sees a foreboding column of thick grey smoke unfurling — its limbs claw angrily at the clear skies, leaving behind a smouldering trail of scars in its violent outburst.

Wonsik immediately activates the communicator on his wrist, and patches through to his agency’s emergency channel. A holographic projection of an older man materialises above his device seconds after, with the words _Commissioner General Jung Taekwoon_ illuminated in blue under him. At first sight, his soft features, and age lack the intimidation factor one would associate with such a position, but the piercing stare from his unwavering gaze, along with his tight-set jaw quickly prompts one to double back on the previous assumption.

“HQ, Cadet Ravi reporting. Major disturbance in Area Whiskey Sierra, Section Fifteen-oh-Two. There seems to be an explosion somewhere near the Museum of Regional Artefacts. Smoke is present, but no fire is visible from my position.”

A muffled exchange of words can be heard in the background before a quiet, but firm voice emits from the speaker, “Alpha Team is on its way.”

Before his commanding officer can continue, the cadet interrupts, “What about the emergency services, sir?”

An audible sigh can be heard, and a tinge of annoyance is present in the other’s voice when the rest of the reply goes through, “Of course an Emergency Medical Team has already been dispatched, Cadet.” Wonsik can’t help but wince inwardly at the curt words, and sheepishly apologises, “I’m sorry, sir.”

Another sigh reaches his ears, but unlike the previous, its tone is less severe —and maybe it’s the adrenaline in his system distorting his senses, but Wonsik swears there’s a hint of fondness in it as well—, “Are you in Area Whiskey Sierra?” “Affirmative, but I’m not in Section Fifteen-oh-Two’s immediate vicinity.”

“How far are you?” Wonsik feels his heart rate pick up at the Commissioner General’s words, and a new surge of adrenaline fills his veins at the possibility of being given his first proper assignment. “Fifteen, no, ten minutes away. I can get there before Alpha—“ Before he can finish his sentence, the other man interjects, “Beta team will be securing the perimeter. I want you to help them by leading all civilians within your patrol zone away from the scene. I don’t want any unnecessary interruptions from the inquisitive.”

Wonsik tries, but fails to stifle an exasperated groan from escaping his throat, and runs a hand roughly through his hair in bridled frustration.

“Cadet Ravi, do you copy?” Wonsik knows better than to argue with his boss —lest he risks the wrath of the lion, whose bite is actually _worse_ than his bark—, and settles for a half-hearted grunt of affirmation.

As if the older man can sense his refusal to break the silence that stretches between them, he continues, voice a tad warmer, but just as firm as before, “The situation is still very delicate, so damage assessment, and control are our first priority. Information is still scarce, and we don’t know who is behind this, or if other sites have been targeted.” Taekwoon pauses for a moment, and the rookie can see the former’s brows crease in contemplation before continuing, “I don’t need you to become another casualty, Wonsik.”

The heavy bitterness in Wonsik’s blood dissipates at his superior’s rare display of concern, and he feels the reality of the situation seep into his consciousness: this isn’t another practice simulation held under the watchful eyes of supervisors; there are probably real people who aren’t much different from himself who lay injured, or even dead at the detonation point. Wonsik feels a twist of guilt in the pit of his stomach at his self-indulgent fantasy, and immediately reverts to a more sombre mood. He is a cadet of V.I.X.X. — _valour, integrity, exacting, excellence,_ he reminds himself—, and should not be prioritising his own gains over the safety of the public, and other agency members.

He returns an affirmative to the General Commissioner in as nonchalant a voice as he can muster, and hopes that the other man doesn’t notice the reddening of his cheeks. If his superior does, he chooses not to comment on it, and instead leaves the cadet with the parting words of, “Keep me informed,” before disconnecting the call.

Wonsik exhales deeply, and replaces his gun back in its holster. He glances dejectedly at the mass of people wandering the streets —the burn of terror long replaced by an insatiable thirst of curiosity—, and resigns himself to the laborious task that lies ahead of him.

 

* * *

 

After painfully convincing the remaining loiterers to stop gawking, and continue with their day, Wonsik finds himself systematically going through each street he has been assigned for any remaining stragglers. By now, V.I.X.X. has sent out a public warning to each resident informing them about the incident, and the closure of nearby areas. Therefore, almost all roads Wonsik has covered have been deserted.

In the second-to-last street, Wonsik peers around the corner with the intention of just walking past if the sight is clear, and sees a hooded man briskly walking towards him. Although the man is leaving the direction of the city centre, this street in particular is relatively close to the museum. Since Wonsik is still well ahead of schedule, he figures he may as well check if the stranger is aware of the situation. As he approaches the man, the cadet notices several strange details about him: his clothes while understated, and in relatively dull colours, are rather dissimilar to the typical fashion of the average Aurelian; his hood is pulled a distance past his head, casting a shadow that conceals all but the tip of his nose; his footsteps while light, are more indicative of someone who is in a hurry than a person with a quicker than average walking pace; while his form is upright, with eyes staring straight ahead, his posture is more tensed than relaxed, and his hands are buried in the pockets of his brown jeans. Wonsik curses inwardly, and even though he doesn’t want to pull too quick a judgement on someone without a longer period of observation, given the urgency, and high risk level of the recent incident, he prefers to be safe than sorry. So, he mentally prepares himself as he nears the man, his identification visible, and a hand hovering near his pistol.

“Good afternoon, mister. I’m Cadet Ravi from V.I.X.X. I need you to stop, and let me access your identification.” Wonsik almost expects the stranger to take off at his words, but is pleasantly surprised to have the man comply —although, only after the latter has peered at the agency’s identification barcode etched into the side of the cadet’s neck—. The other man automatically presses his thumbs against the screen of Wonsik’s communicator, and releases them after the device has sounded a clear beep.

“I need you to remove your hood as well,” the rookie states, and tries his best to imitate Taekwoon’s signature no-nonsense tone in hopes of elevating his air of authority. The stranger pulls back the material, and reveals a head of mussed hair, with voluminous locks just grazing a pair of thick-framed spectacles. With the other man’s face now visible, Wonsik can’t help noticing how he has a prominent nose, and full lips, both rather uncharacteristic of citizens in this galactic sector. Despite the man’s atypical features, Wonsik can’t help but feel a peculiar prickle of familiarity as he continues studying the stranger. However, regardless of how hard he tries to pinpoint where he has seen the other before, he is unable to discern the exact memory in which the stranger features.

After several progressively awkward seconds have ticked by, Wonsik decides it must be his lack of interaction with non-Aurelians that has caused him to impose the rather racist same-face syndrome on the man before him. In an effort to hide his gaffe, Wonsik activates his visor —while still keeping tabs on the other from the corner of his eye—, and scans the array of information that has emerged before him.

“Kenneth Lee, huh?” Wonsik mutters, and feels a rush of relief as the data refutes his initial suspicions. He files away the analysis, and retracts his headgear before turning to the stranger, “Well, Kenneth, looks like everything is in order. Just take note that all of Section Fifteen will be closed indefinitely.”

He waits for the other to acknowledge his words, but finds himself met with the same neutral expression the latter has been wearing since the start of their encounter. There is a nagging voice at the back of Wonsik’s mind that calls his attention to the foreigner’s air of expectance, and he wonders if he may have unintentionally insulted the visitor by singling the latter out for his inherent differences.

He decides against apologising, but tries to diffuse the tension anyway, “Must’ve been a long flight to get here from Pursolis, right? Shame about the museum.” He watches the other man blink somewhat confusedly at him before he letting a lopsided grin stretch across his lips, “Yeah! I swear it took me forever to get here. And today is my last day here too! What can I say, I’ve the _worst_ luck.” The traveller chuckles, then proceeds to feign an expression of mock amazement before exclaiming, “You’ve heard of Pursolis?”

The native feels himself relaxing at the other man’s amiable disposition, and lets out a short bark of laughter before confessing, “Not until a minute ago.” He then points at his communicator in indication. Wonsik is then taken aback when he sees the other man draw his mouth into a full pout, the latter’s expression complete with folded arms, furrowed brows, and accusing eyes. “There must be some mistake in the database… There is no way this man is older than me, even if it’s just by a year,” the cadet thinks doubtfully. Noticing the dumbfounded look on Wonsik’s face, Kenneth breaks his act, and laughs heartily, “It’s one of the smaller exoplanets in that galactic sector, and we aren’t really known for anything… So, I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of it. But I was surprised when I thought you have!” Wonsik can’t help but return a good-natured laugh in response.

Now that Wonsik has determined Kenneth to be a benign —albeit overly affable— individual, he adjusts his uniform, and prepares to take his leave. Before he can bid the other man farewell, the latter begins hesitantly, “Umm, are you free now?” The younger man finds himself stunned yet again as he looks at the outlander, and struggles to stop himself from gaping at the question. After interacting with the man for the past ten minutes, although he isn’t someone whom Wonsik would classify as traditionally good looking, the traveller definitely has a certain boyish charm about him.

When the rookie finally regains control of his tongue, he chokes out, “Yes, wait—, no. I mean… I’m pretty much done, but I’m still on patrol. And I don’t know what time I can get off my shift… With the whole museum incident you know...” The cadet forces his mouth shut, lest the jumbled mess of words that continues to inelegantly tumble from his mouth further undermines the last shreds of his respectability.

Wonsik finds the foreigner looking bemusedly at him —all signs of his previous bashfulness having long vanished— with an eyebrow raised, and a hint of a smirk on his face. When the younger man continues to look just as flustered, and averts his eyes to the wall behind Kenneth, the latter can no longer contain his amusement, and erupts into a giggling fit that soon has him doubled over in stitches. Wonsik snaps out of his temporary stupor, the look of embarrassment of his face now replaced by one of complete confusion as he stares at the traveller’s exaggerated reaction.

After Kenneth has regained some form of composure, he turns to the bewildered cadet, and gasps, “I know I’m incredibly handsome, but I wasn't asking you out!” It takes a few moments for the visitor’s words to sink in, and when they do, Wonsik finds his body temperature spiking, but the palms of his hands remain uncomfortably clammy, and cold inside his gloves. Each palpitation of his racing heart sends a tremor of humiliation through his limbs, rendering them weak with mortification as Wonsik tries desperately to reconcile his unfortunate misinterpretation.

“Oh…” the younger male finally stutters weakly, and forces a smile at Kenneth who does little to hide how entertained he is at watching the cadet’s discomfort grow.

After the latter has ravelled enough in the other’s faux pas, he finally takes pity on the rookie, and clarifies, “I want you to escort me to my ship!”

“Wha—, I thought I told you I’m still on patrol duty!” Wonsik replies in disbelief.

“Oh, come on! The docking bay is just there!” Kenneth presses, and points towards the next Section.

“If it's so near, why do you need me to _escort_ you?” The cadet folds his arms after replying, an adamant look obvious on his face.

To remedy the lack of progress, the traveller opts for a different tactic, “Pretty please? As pretty as me?” When he sees Wonsik’s lips twitch at his whine, he ups the ante, “I’ll even consider our walk there a date!” and finishes his offer with a wink.

Wonsik can’t believe his eyes. He resists the urge to rub them —and in the process, permanently erase the sight he has just witnessed from his memory—, and chooses to retort instead, “How does that, and,” he gestures vaguely in Kenneth’s direction with a wary look on his face before continuing, ”Whatever that other _thing_ was, make me want to help you more??”

“Don’t be shy, _Ravi_ ,” Kenneth drawls, “We both know you’re interested!” Wonsik doesn’t miss the playful glint in the older man’s eyes, and can feel his vein throb dangerously at the latter’s words. The pinch of irritation in his chest intensifies when he looks over to the other male again, only to see him wiggle his brows anticipatorily in return.

Wonsik finds himself torn between outright vexation, and utter resignation, and _almost_ regrets finding the older man attractive. He surveys the empty streets around him before looking at his updated mission report on his communicator. He notes how he still has quite a significant buffer before the end of his patrol session, and figures that the headquarters will be too preoccupied with investigations for the rest of the day to give him more assignments anyway. The cadet then rationalises that although Kenneth is a visitor to Aurelian, he is still a civilian. Since Taekwoon has instructed him to lead all civilians away from this Section, escorting the other man technically falls within the boundaries of his task.

Satisfied with his justification —because there is no way he will admit that finding the other man somewhat endearing is a factor of consideration—, Wonsik sighs deeply, and ignores the tightening knot in the pit of his stomach warning him of the very plausible chance of regret from his decision.

“Fine, I’ll follow you,” he finally relents.

Without missing a beat, the other man throws on his hood, and starts off towards the direction of the docks. Before the cadet can react, the traveller calls back without so much as a glance, “Hurry up! The slower you are, the more of our date you’ll miss!”

Wonsik doesn’t bother to hide his groan of defeat, and contemplates leaving before the last of his patience gets eroded away. Despite his reluctance, the cadet finds himself jogging to catch up. When he finally does, he pointedly ignores the knowing smirk the older male gives him as they proceed to the docking bays.

 

* * *

 

The pair heads towards Aurelia’s docking area in a pace that is not unhurried, but is neither leisurely, leaving the purposeful clicks of their heels echoing in the relatively empty streets. As they enter the next lane, Wonsik realises that he is barely a few inches apart from his companion, and instinctively puts some distance between them.

His deliberate action does not go unnoticed by Kenneth, who takes the opportunity to quip at the other, “You really haven’t dated much, eh? You can come closer! I don’t bite!” Although the other man’s tone is light, and is matched with a cheeky grin, the native’s strides falter at the former’s observation.

Wonsik tries to swallow the lump in his constricted throat, but only succeeds in releasing a wave of self-consciousness that presses against his rapidly heating skin, pressure building until it finally dissipates into a deep scarlet against his cheeks. “I’ve dated many people before!” The cadet counters indignantly.

Kenneth chooses to play along, and whistles in mock admiration, “We’ve got a player here! Who would’ve thought?” He then ignores the scowl the cadet shoots his way, and cries, ”Now I feel used!”

For added effect, the foreigner pretends to sob at Wonsik’s ‘betrayal’, and even removes his glasses to feign the wiping of his imaginary tears. His preposterous antics elicit yet another groan from the latter, who finds himself wondering for the hundredth time why he bothers to humour the other man.

Eager to change the subject, and to avoid becoming even more perplexed by the traveller’s bizarre behaviour, the rookie begins, “So, Kenneth, what do you do?”

“I’m a merchant, a trader to be exact!”

At that answer, the cadet casts a dubious look in the visitor’s direction before blurting out, “You don’t look like much of a trader…”

He realises the connotations of his statement only after it has let his mouth, but before he can remedy his mistake, Kenneth brushes it off, and laughs good-humouredly, “I know! Maybe I should grow a long beard, draw on some wrinkles, and wear a bald cap…”

Relieved that the outlander hasn’t taken offence to his words, Wonsik clarifies, “No! I mean, yeah, you look–, _are_ young. But I’m sure you’re good at what you do! What do you sell, or trade?”

“Of course! I’m the best in the business you know!” the trader claims proudly, and huffs his chest out in emphasis before continuing, “I travel across different galactic sectors, collect whatever is famous in each, and sell them in another sector. Simple stuff.”

Wonsik whistles in appreciation, “That sounds fun. You get to travel, and make money. That’s a good life.”

“It’s _very_ fun, and the money isn’t too bad,” Kenneth smirks, “You should join me! Better than patrolling the same streets for the next thirty years, eh?”

The Aurelian simply waves a hand in dismissal, “I’ll pass. I really like my job. It may be boring now, but it’ll get a lot better after I get promoted.” He looks over to the traveller, and is surprised to see the other man’s previously carefree demeanour replaced by a sombre one.

“What do you see in your job?”

Wonsik is taken aback by the abrupt question. The air of easy friendliness that the cadet has since grown quite fond of has transformed into one of detached apathy, and the foreigner continues onwards in a brisk pace, his gaze resolutely trained on the path ahead. The rookie is slightly baffled by the outlander’s sudden transformation, but against his better judgement, he explains, “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life slaving away for a multi-galactic corporation… I need something more, like a purpose in my life, you know? It’s not as noble as trying to change the universe, but I get to protect those I love, and that is enough.”

He pauses for a moment, and debates if he should share more. He looks over to the other man to gauge his reaction, and barely catches the softening of the latter’s eyes before they return to their previous indifference. “I also promised my sister I’d be her bodyguard when I was younger. She laughed, and called me silly when I reminded her a few years ago. But I was serious, so I thought becoming a cadet would be close enough,” Wonsik finishes somewhat sheepishly. He glances at his companion once more, and sees a smile playing along the sides of his mouth. A part of him is curious as to why Kenneth reacted the way he did, but ultimately decides against pressing the matter out of respect.

After several minutes of walking in (a much more comfortable) silence, the duo reaches the docking area. Wonsik expects them to part ways, but Kenneth moves to take the lead. The former doesn’t complain, and falls in step behind the traveller as they traverse the length of the place. Ships of varying sizes, and models line every bay — slumbering giants of reinforced metals partially melding into the shadows of their holding areas as they await the return of their masters, with the only signs of life their faintly glowing monikers emblazoned in varying garish colours across their worn hulls.

Even though Wonsik has lived in Aurelia all his life, he has rarely stepped foot in this part of the city. Like the average citizen, he comes from a middle-income family, with both his parents holding typical middle management jobs that give them little reason to leave Aurelia, let alone their galactic sector. The last time he visited this place was for a short family cruise to the nearby Saturn Nebula —which on hindsight, was the perfect relaxing getaway for two busy adults, but still incredibly boring for a hyperactive child—. The memories from his five-year-old self of the docking area are fuzzy at best, but he does remember the cacophonous grinding, and clanking of machinery that constantly rang in his ears, and how he had stared in awe at the intricate scaffolds with twisted metallic limbs stretching into the heavens.

Wonsik nearly misses the slowing of Kenneth’s pace as he was reminiscing, but manages to stop himself before he crashes into the other man. He notes the sparse number of ships around, and the relatively quiet surroundings, and recognises that they are in one of the last bays in the docking area. The trader’s expression has returned to that of a more genial one, and the cadet feels himself mirroring the former’s smile.

“Looks like our date is over, Ravi!” the foreigner announces cheerfully, “At least that broke your dry spell, eh?”

The younger man bites back the urge to respond —lest he risks handing over more ammunition for the other to bait him with—, and forces a smile in return. Instead, Wonsik focuses on the spacecraft before him — it is a medium-sized carrier painted a non-descript dark grey, with the monotony occasionally broken by panels of faded metallic blue, and softly pulsating red lights. What the cadet finds most surprising is that despite his rather extensive knowledge of craft models, the ship before him doesn’t resemble any classic civilian makes. The other thing that catches his eye is how the exterior has been refurbished with scales of hexagonal plates — their shiny surfaces reminding him of a kind of metamaterial he had handled back during his university days. Printed along the craft’s portside in stylised capitals is the word _HEX_ , which he finds a rather unusual choice of name for the craft, but after pondering further, he admits it is oddly fitting for an individual as eccentric as the trader.

“She’s gorgeous, isn’t she,” Kenneth comments affectionately, a faraway look in his eyes. The sentence breaks the Aurelian’s train of thoughts, and he nods dumbly in return. Wonsik sees the other man turn to look expectantly at him, and he finally says, “So… I hope you enjoyed your visit here.” The former mentally kicks himself at the sudden evaporation of his conversational skills.

“I definitely did!” Kenneth replies with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. The visitor moves onto the platform in preparation to embark, but before he activates it, he turns back to call out teasingly, “You sure you don’t want to join me? It’ll be fun!”

The cadet shakes his head, “I’m fine here!” The traveller flashes the younger male another one of his signature pouts before shouting, “Pity! You do make a _great_ bodyguard!”

Wonsik tries to hide his grin at the former’s words, and he feels a sense of relief easing the last of his tension at the knowledge that other man does not hold any animosity against him. He hears the distinct hum of the platform as he watches the foreigner ascend to the entrance of his craft. Before the latter enters his ship, the cadet gives in to the impetuous desire bubbling at the tip of his tongue, and yells, “Let me know if you’re back in town!” The younger male squints against the glare of the ceiling lights, and thinks he sees Kenneth send a wink his way, a smug triumphant smile evident on his face before he disappears into the cockpit.

 

* * *

 

By the time Wonsik has finished another patrol round of his Section’s still vacant streets, he receives an update from the headquarters. He opens his communicator, and eagerly pulls up the file. He scans the main document, and exhales in silent thanks at the lack of causalities, and injuries despite the size of the blast. The brief also details how only one artefact is missing despite the elaborate ruse — a small jade talisman with the _Flower of Life_ symbol carved into its centre, surrounded by a series of ancient inscriptions that has yet to be decrypted. Although said item isn’t the main attraction of the museum, due to the rarity of items from its time period, it has gained a fair amount of attention from collectors looking to acquire the unique piece.

On the next tab of the file, the cadet is rather surprised to see that V.I.X.X. has already issued an arrest warrant. “The culprit must be an amateur for the headquarters to have identified him so quickly,” he muses. He slips on his visor, and a life-sized 3D holographic model appears before him.

Wonsik stares agape at the image before him, and nearly falls over in shock. Excluding the glasses, the person looking back at him is the spitting image of the man he has spent the past half an hour with. He traces the same prominent nose, and full lips, the whirlwind of unanswered questions in his head drowning out the remnants of his coherent thoughts. His sight keeps cycling around the contours of the man’s face —scrutinising the dark hollows of his eyes, the smooth apples of his cheeks, the soft pinches at the edges of his crooked smile, the gentle curve of his jaw—, as if desperately searching for any sliver of difference that can alleviate the incessant pounding in his chest.

The space cadet finally tears his eyes away from the visual display, and after taking several deep breaths to steady his frazzled nerves, starts to peruse the rest of information.

_Birth name: Lee Jaehwan; Aliases: Dennis, Jannis, Ken, Kenneth; Last known location: Unknown; Charges: Burglary, Criminal Mischief, Fraud, Larceny, Robbery, Smuggling; Threat Classification: Level Five._

The cadet feels his mouth dry in realisation as he continues down the hefty list of details from the criminal's numerous felonies, and misdemeanours, the pressure from his tightly clamped jaw, and the sharp bite of his nails in his palms the remaining bolts of his rapidly crumbling composure. He closes his communicator, and removes his visor; his agitation further exacerbated by the tremble of his fingers hindering the process.

Only then does it sink in: he has basically escorted, held open the door for, and bid farewell to a notorious intergalactic criminal.

“I feel so used,” he humourlessly echoes Kenn—, _Lee Jaehwan’s_ earlier sentiments. All he feels is the roar of blood against his ears, and the sear of anger, and humiliation against his flesh as he tosses his head back in exasperation.

“I fucked up big time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Original notes from 2015: I can't believe I still have it in my old, and weary bones to write this much! (The best part is how this is _after_ shaving off 2-3k words of unnecessary expositions OTL. Maybe I should really plan my stuff before I start writing...) I swear this was meant to be a _short_ , and _fun_ one-shot based on the aforementioned scene. But as I wrote it, I found myself unconsciously building a mini universe (ha ha ha) in my head, and I started including little details here, and there (mostly as inside jokes)... By the time I was halfway through, I realised that I'd added so many details in that I might as well just turn this into a short series or something, so that's the route I'm considering! 
> 
> I guess why I was so enthusiastic is because space!AU is well within my comfort zone (it's almost like a failsafe if I don't have the options of writing non-AU, or modern/mundane!AU), but it's been a long while since I've read any science fiction, or touched physics, so getting started was surprisingly painful a process. As mentioned above, I was experimenting a bit more than usual with this, especially for _characterisation,_ and _dialogue_. I figured it's time I woman up and stop shying away from things I can't write, and find ways to improve on them instead. So I'm terribly sorry if I've subjected you darlings to inconsistent voices, and massive confusing chunks of messy speech switching! I'm honestly trying to remedy the shortcomings in my writing ability, but that'll unfortunately take time. 
> 
> Also, I tried to write this in less dense a fashion vis-a-vis my usual stuff, to 1) allow myself to write at quicker pace, and 2) learn to vary the tone of my pieces to suit the genres they are in (for example in this piece, I'm trying to make everything a little more _lighthearted_ ). I'm aware that even then, some of my normal style still seeps in when I'm writing descriptives, but hopefully that won't mess the pace up too much! Sorry for the tl;dr, but I'm just surprisingly apprehensive about how this turned out. Thank you so much for reading, darlings! I'm so, so sorry for subjecting you all to 5000+ words of even poorer writing quality than my norm, but just bear with me as I try (for once in my life!) to hone my craft, even if it's just by a sliver! And please let me know if _certain parts are (or the entire thing is) unclear_! I tend to forget that AUs are built inside one's head, so whatever I have written comes with necessary assumptions, of which some I may have failed to detail out to the audience. Anyway, thank you again for reading!
> 
> (I remember enjoying myself immensely as I wrote this, and originally intended for it to be a series. I still have the 2k+ words of notes saved, but real life got in the way and I never saw my original plan through. Despite that, I hope my take on RaKen was believable, and that some of you will find enjoyment in how Wonsik was so thoroughly played by Jaehwan!)
> 
> (Originally posted to my tumblr: dancingunderdarkstars, and my AFF: devils_solitude)


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